| | | The man whose idea of Paradise was to "lie upon a sofa all day and | read new novels," might realize it in the present day to his heart's | content, We have novels of every kind, and good ones too, as far as | interest and excitement go, to gratify all tastes and suit all fancies. | First and foremost there is the religious novel, polemical or otherwise, | but generally polemical, with its "clear views" and dogmatic | statements, mixed up with ex-parte | delineations of general tendencies and individual developments. | These, however, are not always amusing; and while some are prosy | and tiresome, others are irreverent, and almost all unfair. There is at | best an evident determination to make out a case. And nothing is more | easy. A lively imagination joined to a one-sided view of things ~~ and | they often go together ~~ will easily so arrange the incidents of a | story, or describe the elements of a character, as to satisfy "the party" | for which the book is written, that such and such vices or virtues are | the natural results of such and such religious opinions. Still the works | in question are often striking, and sometimes edifying, for they are | written now by persons who are at once clever and earnest, and, in | spite of the repulsiveness of the subject, while the devout are attracted | by occasional glimpses of better things, even those who only read for | amusement are not insensible to the wit and fancy with which that | subject is adorned. Then, people like to see the Jesuits shown up, or | the Roman Catholics in general, or the dissenters, or High Church, or | Low Church, as the case may be; and thus their minds are in a position | to receive whatever impressions the writer may be pleased to give. | The best religious fictions are those which deal least in exaggeration | and abuse. Among which, in spite, of various | drawbacks, may he reckoned "Margaret Percival." It is full of deep | | feeling, and, though not without polemics, it is not debased by mere | party spirit. So is "Geraldine." Even in the Romanist novel there is an | apparent candour of statement, an absence of all bitterness, which are | strikingly contrasted with certain Protestant novels that we could | mention, while a depth of religious sentiment is not unfrequently laid | open, which "Christians of all denominations" might do well to look | into. Platform exhibitions are indeed painted with cruel truth, but they | who know them best, know that it is difficult to exaggerate their | hollowness and falsehood. Next to the religious novel comes the novel | of Political Economy, of which Miss Martineau, and her opponent the | Rev. C. Tayler, have given us no contemptible specimens. We have | neither time nor inclination, in a slight review of works of fiction, to | canvass the truth or falsehood of the dogmas advocated on either side. | We object to the Political Economy of the lady's books in particular, | not because it is false, but because it is unreadable. Who can turn from | the exquisite stories of this touching writer to the dry disquisitions | upon free trade, or the circulating medium, with which they are mixed | up? We shrewdly suspect that more readers besides ourselves "pass | over," as children would say, "the good advice," which the mind is not | then in a posture to receive. | | Perhaps the same may be said of the political romances of Mr. | Disraeli. His brilliant pictures of life and manners in "Coningsby" and | "Tancred," and the eloquent development of the deeper yearnings of | the human heart which surprises and thrills one in his pages, certainly | owe nothing of their charm to his political disquisitions. The fact is, | that the novel, in its best and most effective form, is neither a treatise | of theology, nor a treatise of science, nor a treatise of morals, at least | in a didactic shape, Even Miss Edgeworth has marred the effect of her | very amusing and interesting sketches by a specific object too | prominently declared. Like Joanna Baillie, she has given us pictures of | one individual passion brought out in strong relief while the nicer | gradations of character, as seen in real life, are lost in the salient | points of the fictitious exhibition, The consequence often is, that much | of the benefit which should he gained by the lesson is lost, merely | from its exaggeration. In "Vivian," for example, the hero is placed | under circumstances where decision would | seem almost impossible, and thus, instead of blaming his vacillation, | we are led to pity and excuse it. We do not forget that Miss | Edgeworth, with talents that everyone | must admire, and a delineation | of character with which few can fail to be charmed, is chargeable with | graver faults than that which has been specified. Her books seem | almost intended to show how little need there is of Christianity in | order to reform the world; while her estimate of personal purity, in the | | male sex at least, is lamentably defective. In the tale, to which allusion | has been made above, the adultery of the hero is considered scarcely a | fault by his friend, an exemplary clergyman, | and is thought no objection to his immediate acceptance by the severe | and high-minded, not to say puritanical Lady Sarah. | | But to return; the novel which lays the strongest hold upon the mind | and keeps it, is the novel of character, which describes life as it is | under circumstances of vivid interest, or else describes common and | every-day occurrences as they appear to minds acute in observation, | and accurate in detail. Much has been said, from Aristotle downwards, | about the conduct of the story as the principal object and principal | attraction of fictitious narrative, but unless the conduct of the | characters be included in that definition, it is difficult to assent to its | truth. That there is a certain charm in a well-arranged series of events, | cannot he denied, but it does not necessarily demand a deep | knowledge of human life, or of the human heart, and may be | possessed by minds of a very inferior order. All that is wanted is a | lively imagination and an easy style. Yet such books as "St. Clair of | the Isles," and "The Children of the Abbey," are still read, and may be | read once at least, with sufficient amusement. When we speak of the | romances of Mrs. Radcliffe and of Maturin, we speak of a much | higher style of composition. Possessing as they do more than all the | interest which belongs to a stirring narrative, striking in events, and | thrilling with mystery, there are not wanting occasional delineations of | individual character which seem to bring them under the head of the | novel of life and manners. But the romances in question described a | state of society which never existed, and though, by appealing with | unrivalled power to the all-absorbing emotions of curiosity and terror, | they exercised for a time a wonderful influence over the public mind, | it soon passed away. We are old enough to remember the school | which they created, the many imitations which issued in quick | succession from the Minerva press, and with which the shelves of our | circulating libraries then groaned. All are now forgotten. People felt | that their business was with "man as he is," not with "man as he is | not," and left the pine-clad mountains and roaring torrents of the | Apennines, the frowning turrets of Udolpho and the secrets of its | mysterious chambers, for the brilliant sallies of the banquet or of the | drawing-room, the companionship of the actual men and women with | whom they were brought into contact in the wear and tear of ordinary | life. | | The novel of character was carried at an early period to a high degree | of excellence in England. In spite of his profound ignorance of the | conventional manners which he professed to paint, the two great work | of Richardson abound in delineations | | of individual character, as it exists independent of external position. | He knew nothing of people of rank and fashion, but he | knew everything | of the human heart. Even in the awful "Clarissa," with its severe | unity of purpose, its few actors and scanty events, the depth of his | observation and the fineness of his tact are sufficiently seen. But in | "Sir Charles Grandison," the full powers of his acute and observing | mind are developed in all their completeness. All that he | could know he knew, and he knew well how to | tell it. Accordingly, even in the present day, though few who have | wept and trembled over the pages of "Clarissa" will not shudder to | open the book again, in spite of our more rapid and stirring literature | numbers still recur to the interesting scenes of the later novel, and live | over again the emotions of their earlier years. | | In speaking of the novel of character, it is impossible not to feel that in | this style of composition Fielding and Smollett hold a distinguished | place. Perhaps there are few writers who, in this respect surpass them. | But in these works, which as literary compositions deserve very high | praise, there is a sad defect. Their tone of morals is lamentably low, | and the scenes which they depict are consequently without dignity and | elevation. There is an absence of all enthusiasm. There is no yearning | after the good and true, no feeling of the seriousness of life, no high | thoughts and earnest aspirations. No man ever rose from the pages of | Fielding or Smollett with a purer mind or a tenderer heart. All is "of | the earth, earthy." One cannot help wishing, in spite of the wit and | fancy which breathe throughout, that "Tom Jones" and "Peregrine | Pickle" had never been written, or that they were now forgotten. | | Miss Burney's novels, everyone knows, are far from being open to this | serious charge, though in one point they resemble the compositions of | these earlier writers, inasmuch as they paint scenes and characters of | low life with poignant humour and striking truth. Perhaps, with the | single exception of the masterly delineation of Mrs. Delvile in | "Cecilia," Miss Burney succeeds best in the ludicrous. There may be | occasional exaggeration, as in the case of Briggs, the miser guardian, | but in all her portraits of vulgarity and folly there is an exuberance of | fun and frolic, and a sustained consistency of representation, which | are beyond all praise. Perhaps, in the whole range of fiction, it would | be difficult to point out a richer scene than the meeting of the three | guardians in the novel mentioned above. Charlotte Smith, though not | equal to Miss Burney as a painter of life and manners, was long and | not undeservedly popular, and must not be overlooked. Sir Walter | Scott himself has borne testimony to the well-conceived and | well-sustained character of Mrs. Rayland, in "The Old Manor House," a | novel which is still | | read with no slight interest; even in these days of superior literary | achievement. As we come farther down, the novel of character and | manners meets us at every turn. We say nothing of the author of | "Waverley" and "Guy Mannering," for to express a tenth part of what | he has done for the imaginative literature of his country would require | a volume. We say nothing also of Mr. James, who has been | considered by some his rival as well as his imitator, because we know | but little of his works. He is a most prolific writer; but books, that are | written easily, are often not so easily read; | and, when we have turned over his pages, they have reminded us not | unfrequently of Madame de Stael's suggestion, that people on certain | occasions should he allowed to send their clothes to | a party and stay at home themselves. Mr. James seems less | acquainted with men and women themselves than with their costume. | But we cannot pass over Miss Austen. Aiming at no overpowering | pathos, and no startling effects, she describes the foibles of common | life, and the mixed motives which prompt the actions of ordinary | characters, with a minute analysis which, if it has ever been equalled, | has certainly never been surpassed. In her personages, moreover, | though they never rise beyond the level of our daily experience, there | is that wonderful individuality which stamps them on the mind for | ever. Who can ever forget Mr. Woodhouse, or Mr. Collins, or Mr. and | Miss Crawford, or Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, or Lady Catherine de Burgh, | or any of the other characters embodied in her truthful fictions? But, | in order fully to appreciate this perfect writer, patient investigation is | wanted. It will never do to hurry over her pages for the sake of coming | as soon as possible to the catastrophe. The beauty of the composition | is in the detail. Every sentence, almost every word, tells. It is the | elaborate finish of a Dutch painting, of which the individual touches | are scarcely perceptible, while the combined result is perfection. We | think that, if life had been spared to her, Miss Austen would have | done still better things, i.e. she would have had a higher aim. In one of | her posthumous productions, "Persuasion," her best and last, united | with the same graphic power which distinguished her former works, | there is a more earnest tone and a nearer | approach to deep and devout feeling. Perhaps, the most successful | living writer of fiction, and in a literary point of view the most | deservedly so, is the author of "Pelham." Like Maturin, he is the | antipodes of Miss Austen. He deals in striking contrasts and thrilling | situations. Perhaps, a more awful scene can scarcely be imagined than | that in "Clifford," where the father and the son stand opposed to each | other, face to face, in a court of justice, in the relative positions of | judge and criminal, | | both determined to sustain the trial with unshrinking fortitude. But his | novels are, over and above, novels of character and manners. In one of | them, for example, the court of Louis XIV., Madame de Maintenon in | particular, is painted with a historic fidelity not inferior to that of Scott | himself. But, while we allow the merit of his works as literary | compositions, we condemn their moral standard. The feelings called | forth are not healthful. It is not merely that he depicts great crimes and | absorbing passions, which he must do whose | object it is to "purify by pity and terror," but that he enlists our | sympathies in the behalf of guilt. As Sidney Smith once wrote, his aim | seems to be to "gild the gallows and excite a prejudice in favour of | being hanged." This is a great error in taste as well as in morals. In | fact, it is not true. High thoughts and amiable feelings are not the | usual concomitants of crime, nor do base and selfish dispositions go | hand in hand with regularity of conduct and moral restraint. From Sir | Edward Lytton Bulwer to Lady Morgan there is a wide interval. Not | that her 1adyship is without merit as a novel-writer. Far from it. In | spite of much affectation, and not a little bad taste, few people paint | life and manners better. "O'Donnel" is a proof of this. The scenes in | Lady Llanberris' country house are infinitely amusing, and the three | female characters who play the most prominent part in the novel are | touched with a masterly hand, strikingly contrasted and admirably | sustained. The capital defect, to use a very soft word, of Lady | Morgan's writings, is their evil tendency. She is not merely careless | about doing good, she seems to lay herself out to do mischief. Her | heroes, all her best men, indeed, are studiously represented as | immoral, and, virtual1y, lauded on that very account; and her heroines | are intrinsically but little better. She never seems to write a book | without the express purpose of undermining some high principle or | devout feeling. Thus, in the "Missionary," the sublime self-devotion of | the apostolical nuncio ends in a love affair with the Brahminical | priestess, who is his only convert. Mrs. Trollope is a congenial spirit; | coarse, worldly, but at the same time intensely clever. She paints well | and truly whatever is in accordance with her own actual impressions, | and does not trench upon the high-minded and the spiritual, which she | can neither feel nor comprehend. While we shrink, therefore, with | positive abhorrence from such books as the "Vicar of Wrexhill" and | "Father Eustace," we can be amused with the "Widow Barnaby," in | spite of the essential vulgarity of the character, relieved as it is by | sketches of life and manners, of which, while we admire the vividness, | we see no reason to doubt the truth. Mrs. Gore is a brilliant describer | of fashionable life. Her | | style is well adapted to show it off. Sportive, gay, glittering, full of | poignant allusions and elegant badinage. The | coruscations, indeed, are often too frequent, till the eye is blasted with | excess of light. This is strikingly the case in "Cecil," which is really | one continued fire-work. "Mothers and Daughters" may, perhaps, be | considered altogether her best work. It is less ambitious, has less | mannerism, and, above all, has more good in | it, than always falls to the share of this lady's compositions; for she, | too, is chargeable with grave moral defects, and, first and foremost, | with a sad want of reverence. Scriptural language and allusions are | constantly introduced into her novels, not to awaken seriousness, but | to point a witticism, or give effect to a sarcasm. But, there are writers | of fiction, we are happy to know, of a very different character, whose | moral purity and devotional feeling are not inferior to their literary | merit. Such in times past were Mrs. West and Miss Hamilton, whose | object it was to stem the tide of anarchy and unbelief, which was | inundating the land under the title of the "New Philosophy," and of | which Godwin, Mary Wolstonecraft, and Mary Hayes, were some of | the chief directors. The novels of these distinguished women, indeed, | written as they were for a specific purpose, come, strictly speaking, | under the head of the polemical novel, as "Modern Philosophers" and | the "Infidel Father" sufficiently prove; but the late Mrs. Brunton, who | held a distinguished place among those novelists who paved the way | for a higher tone of moral and religious instruction than had been | usually connected with works of fancy, had no such exclusive aim. | "Self-Control" and "Discipline" are merely the works of one whose | amiable, cultivated, and pious mind gave dignity and importance to a | branch of literature, which had hitherto been looked upon as trifling, if | not mischievous. The novels of Jane and Anna Maria Porter are still | highly esteemed, but not more highly than they deserve; for they teach | the sternest lessons of self-sacrifice, at the same time that they | powerfully excite the imagination and touch the heart. Mrs. Opie, | Quaker as she is, need not regret the "Tales of Real Life," which | painted so purely and so well the world in which she once lived, and | of which she was the life and charm. The author of "Tremaine" also, | in spite of occasional heaviness in the style, and unsuspected | worldliness in the plan of his works, must be numbered among the | more recent writers who are enlisted on the side of virtue and religion: | while the productions of Mrs. Bray, whose literary merit has gained an | abiding niche in the Temple of Fiction, are as meritorious in their | tendency as they are polished in their execution. And here we must | not pass over in silence the novels of the authoress of "Rhoda." In her | first publication, "Things | | by their Right Names," she took at once the line from which she never | swerved; and though there was little in that work which gave promise | of the graceful facility, the intimate acquaintance with actual life, the | closeness of observation, the power of description, and the depth of | pathos, which broke forth in her acknowledged master-piece, like the | "Gossip's Story" of Mrs. West, which it resembles in a little didactic | stiffness, it showed the purity and earnestness of one who understood | and felt the serious responsibilities of man. | | We do not think that "Rhoda" has been appreciated as it deserves. The | characters are true to nature, strikingly varied, and admirably | sustained; that of Mrs. Strickland, in particular, is beyond all praise. It | is the perfect delineation of a high-bred woman of the world, | containing just that mixture of good and evil which is found in real | life, and issuing in just the result to which such principles and such | conduct would naturally lead. We know nothing more awful in its | simple truth (for it never oversteps the modesty of nature) than the | death-bed of Mrs. Strickland. The novels of Miss Farriday deserve to | take their place by the side of "Rhoda," for their high tone of moral | excellence and devout feeling, as well as for their literary merit. | "Marriage," indeed, is rather a succession of brilliant pictures than a | well-connected story; but who that passes from one to the other with | increasing interest and delight, can feel that anything is wanted to | complete their charm? Some of the noblest characters portrayed by | this lady are sketches of real life, and it will be a pleasure to the reader | to be told that their excellence is anything but exaggerated. There are | not a few women of rank and fashion, who hold as high a place in the | literary as in the social scale; and their works are almost all | distinguished by earnestness of purpose and loftiness of principle. | Such are the "Tales," edited by Lady Dacre, and the later productions | of Lady Charlotte Bury. "Ellen Waring," "A Marriage in High Life," | and "Trevellyan," form a cheering and delightful contrast to the | impiety of Lady Morgan, the grossness of Mrs. Trollope, and the | flippant irreverence of Mrs. Gore. The recent publications of Lady | Georgiana Fullerton are not, strictly speaking, novels of character and | manners; i. e. they are not what the French call "Romans de Societe." | They are rather tales of sentiment and passion, resembling, in this | respect, the exciting tales of Barry St. Leger, but differing from them | entirely in the high and unearthly direction which they take. | | In the perusal of these noble productions, we are hurried forward with | breathless anxiety; the heart beats, and the mind is absorbed; but we | know and feel that it is all for a noble purpose. The richest gifts of | nature and of grace are shed in lavish | | abundance upon the ideal which she embodies; and they are laid, | where all such gifts should be laid, at the foot of the cross. The spirit | of the age, with all its errors and absurdities, its senseless and | rancorous disputes, and its utilitarian worldliness, is distinguished by | juster views of human life than were taken in the years gone by. Few | people look upon it now as a scene of mere amusement, but as an | arena on which we are called to do and suffer. Hence the serious tone | of our imaginative literature. Even men of the world write now things | which the world once either laughed at or eschewed. The author of | "Granby" has not perhaps gone farther than the decent proprieties of | our conventional society, which he has described with great truth and | effect; but the author of the "Story of a Life" has shown us, beneath | the glare and glitter, an under-current of feeling and suffering, which | is flowing on to its only resting-place ~~ eternity. The more recent | publications of Captain Marriott are an improvement in this respect on | his former ones. Theodore Hook himself, though he took the wrong | path, knew and pointed out the right; while, in "Tilney-Hall," there are | occasional bursts of earnest and reverential feeling which would | surprise one who knew nothing of Hood but his "Oddities." It would | be strange if we passed over him whose powers of description, clear | insight into character, inexhaustible humour and deep pathos, are the | charm of every circle where his books are to be found. One must | desire for the author of "Dombey and Son" a sterner system of | religious belief, and, as its natural consequence, a truer estimate of the | religious character; but he is fully alive to the responsibilities of man | as a social being, and never were the charities of human life described | with a warmer fervour, nor its selfishness lashed with a more | unsparing hand. | | But it is time to come to the works which appear at the head of this | article, and which have led to the cursory remarks on works of fiction | in general, and those of the present day in particular, which we have | made above. We lose no time in calling the attention of our readers to | these volumes, for we feel them to be as beneficial in their tendency as | they are skilful in their execution. On reading the earlier works, our | first impression certainly was, that the diameters were developed too | much in description, and too little in conversation and action. This is a | common defect in new and unpractised writers. An e1oquent | exposition of general principles, or an acute analysis of individual | motives, such as may suit a philosophical treatise rather than a | breathing picture of actual life, is a ready, if not a sufficient substitute | for the minute touches, the fine shades and glancing lights, which | belong only to the deep observer of things as they really are, who | compares the world within with | | the world without. But these are the points which tell. We admire a | sound philosophy, a reverential belief, a strict system of | self-government, but it is when these high | principles are developed in the | struggle of actual life that they come closely home to our business and | bosom; and, as we have said, there seemed some deficiency here in | the earlier publications of this author. | | The plot of "Mount Sorel" is one of great simplicity. It is the picture of | a proud, reserved, sensitive and unsocial man, absorbed in the | recollections of the past, and turning away with unspeakable disgust | from the new era then opening upon the world, changing all its habits, | shaking all its institutions, destroying all its illusions. The time of the | action is that of the first French Revolution; and the contentions which | that stirring event excited, not only in general society, but in the | domestic circle, are the main spring of the perplexities of the novel. | This proud man has one child, a daughter, "The Heiress of the De | Veres," the heiress of all that is left of the broad manors once | possessed by her lofty and highly-descended ancestors; and in her his | hopes are centered. But he has another absorbing passion. "Mount | Sorel," once the magnificent seat of the De Veres, whose waving | woods, and swelling knolls, he sees every day, and every hour, from | the windows of his humbler Holnicote, had been alienated during the | Great Rebellion, and the recovery of this cherished abode of former | grandeur is his vision by day, and his dream by night. Circumstances | seem to favour his object. The last possessor dies, and the estate is | offered for sale. It has been left, to outward appearance, in such a | dilapidated state by his long neglect and mismanagement, that there is | no competition, and it comes within the compass of Mr. De Vere's | diminished purse. His man of business, however, who is proud of his | skill in driving a bargain, holds back from completing the transaction | till a certain Mr. Higgins, whose attention has been most | inopportunely directed to the estate, and who has taste enough to | admire its beauty, and sense enough to understand its capabilities, | steps forward and anticipates the purchase. This Mr. Higgins stands | out in bold contrast to the high-bred and fastidious Mr. De Vere. He is | a despiser of all that is conventional and even courteous, a hater of | kings and nobles, and men of family, (with a little unconfessed | mortification at not being taken notice of by his aristocratic | neighbour,) a corresponding member of the Jacobin-club, and in short | an active and energetic leader of "the movement." The moral | antipathies of two such characters may be easily conceived, and they | would never have come in contact if it had not been for a son of Mr. | Higgins, who, bearing his mother's high-born name of Vernon, has | been introduced by an early friend to the family | | at Holnicote, where, his origin being at first unknown, he charms the | father and becomes the successful wooer of the daughter. This friend, | himself the secret lover and cherished companion of the young | heiress, plays a prominent part in the plot, and in fact is the narrator of | the story. After some proud re1uctance, Mr. De Vere consents to the | marriage, and "Mount Sorel" is again within his grasp; but the two | fathers dine together, when, from a chain of accidental circumstances, | both are out of humour; politics are insidiously introduced by a vulgar | and insidious hanger-on of Mr. Higgins, the mine explodes, and the | lovers are commanded to separate for ever. Vernon, however, is firm | in his engagement. When commanded to choose between his father | and his mistress, he declares for the latter. He is disinherited, and | "Mount Sorrel" is again advertised for sale. But, this apparent | destruction of his hopes leads to their fulfilment. Mr. De Vere, though | a haughty man, is not wanting in magnanimity, and overpays the lover | for the loss of his estate by the offer of his daughter's hand. Mr. | Higgins sends his blessing and a splendid ring, for his future | daughter-in-law, and the marriage takes place. | "Mount Sorel" comes at last into | the possession of Mr. De Vere, who lives and dies there; while the | young couple take up their abode at Holnicote. This is all the story, | and we give it without scruple, because we think the interest of the | book will not be injured by such a summary. | | We extract a passage here and there, to give the reader an idea of Mr. | De Vere's character. | | | | Mr. Higgins deserves to be introduced as he first appeared to the | narrator at the village inn. | | | | The first meeting of Mr. De Vere and Mr. Higgins after the lovers are | affianced, is well executed. | | | | We are not, we confess, quite as well pleased with "Father Darcy" as | with "Mount Sorel." It is a tale of the Gunpowder Plot, a tale of | jesuitical influence, reckless madness, and atrocious | | guilt; relieved, indeed, by occasional gleams of tenderness and piety, | but leaving a painful sense of dissatisfaction on the mind. There are | striking descriptions and vivid delineations of character; but if they lay | hold of the imagination, they do not deeply touch the heart. We doubt | if the historical novel is ever so effective as a tale of domestic life. It | seems to need the master-mind of Scott to unite the charm of fiction | with the severity of truth. We pass over the more ambitious scenes of | the work, and extract a few of the portraits, which are sketched with | much fidelity and effect. The scene is at court ~~ the court of the | Maiden Queen. She herself is first described. | | | Father Darcy, also, or rather, Father Garnet, | appears first at this royal fete. | | | | We extract the description of Catesby's mother, in her lonely manor | house. | | | | | The subterranean mass is described with much picturesque effect, and | also the supper which succeeds. | | | We say nothing of the plot, or the | catastrophe, which is matter of history, and need not be detailed here. | | Neither "Mount Sorel," nor "Father Darcy" had prepared us for the | finished excellence of "Emilia Wyndham," which goes far, in our | opinion, towards realizing the idea of a perfect novel. Its conception is | new and striking; its characters are strongly marked and consistently | sustained, and they are developed in conversation and action rather | than in description. The book is full of amusing pictures of life and | manners, while it lays open the deepest feelings of the mind and heart. | The interest never flags, and yet the narrative is always simple, | natural, and vraisemblable. The catastrophe is | highly effective, and the impression left upon the mind is at once | soothing and salutary. The plan of the work is both new and bold, and | could only have been conceived by one of conscious powers as well as | right intentions; who could dare to run counter to received opinions | and wonted sympathies. It would not be fair, either to the writer or the | reader, to lessen the interest felt in the first perusal of such a work, by | entering into a detail of the story. We shall confine ourselves to | selecting such scenes as may afford a fair specimen of the author's | ability. We introduce the hero, Mr. Danby, Mr. Wyndham's | man of business. | | He is receiving the summons of Emilia in the hour of her perplexity | and distress. | | | | If it were not too long, we should like to transcribe the whole of their | first interview, which strikes us as being most effective; but we must | be contented with a few extracts. | | | The scenes of Mr. Danby's rejection, and his | enforced acceptance afterwards, and the description of Emilia's | mind gradually growing into a state of true conjugal love for her | husband, are very powerful; but our limits prevent us from inserting | them, as we are aware the "Emilia Wyndham" has been for some time | in possession of many of our readers. Before, however, we take leave | of Emilia Wyndham, we will specify what seems to us an error in this | otherwise most perfect delineation. She had the key to her husband's | character, though she did not fully enter into all its sensitiveness and | morbid suspicion, and she should not have suffered the slightest | reserve of communication to exist between them. An early and full | development of all | | her relations with Lisa and her husband would have set everything | right at once, and the subsequent misery would have been spared. But | there, it may be said, would have been an end of the novel; and in this | there may be some truth, yet Sheridan Knowles, in one of his | interesting plays, "The Wife," has produced an effect as new as it is | pleasing, by making the husband and wife act with common sense. | We think, moreover, that Mr. Danby's tenderness and magnanimity, | which are represented all along as mere pagan qualities, (for he is | confessedly an open contemner of all religious observances,) should have | been purified and exalted at last by Christian principle. He should | have been won "by the chaste conversation of his wife, coupled with | fear." Such may have been the intention of the author, but it is not | expressed. | | "Norman's Bridge" appears to us in no respect inferior to "Emilia | Wyndham," though we do not expect that readers in general will | coincide with our opinion. Its aim is sterner, its execution more | severe, and the interest which it excites rather painful than pleasing; | but the characters are well conceived and boldly drawn, the situations | striking and effective, and the descriptions equal, if not superior, to | any that can be found in the former work. There are few whom the | catastrophe will not disappoint; we doubt, if we should have had | courage ourselves thus to end the book; but the author, or rather | authoress, (for, in spite of some disquisitions which seem to belong | rather to the sterner sex, we are well assured that these interesting and | powerful Novels are the production of a woman,) is right. It would | certainly have left a more soothing impression upon the mind, if the | family of the excellent Lord Strathnaer had not been driven from their | home, and the rich affections of the noble-minded Joan had not been | lavished in vain upon the equally noble-minded Edward; but the | lesson of the whole book would have been lost. That lesson is the | gradual development of the principle of covetousness; the gradual | induration of a not unfeeling heart under its baneful influence, till | humanity, gratitude, and even natural affection are alike forgotten, till | character is ruined and happiness wrecked. The prize is, indeed, | obtained to its fullest extent, but the wealth, which, "The Modern | Midas" has accumulated at the expense of all that can make life | valuable, is fertile of evil but powerless in producing good. The | growing unworthiness of the object of her devoted love extinguishes | by degrees the long-enduring tenderness of the faithful and | self-denying wife. The heiress of all that | wealth is doomed to wear away | her existence in the solitude of her lofty halls, wounded in her | affections though exemplary in her duties. The wretched victim of his | own avarice | | sits an isolated and despised being in the midst of his boundless | hoards, no kindness exercised, no restitution made, nothing left to | soothe his mind, or soften his heart, at the hour when all for which he | has hitherto lived is passing away. We make no abstract of the story | which is simple almost to baldness. The interest lies in the characters | and in some of the detached scenes. The | acquisitiveness of Michael, "The Modern Midas," is painted | with equal truth and force; and is strikingly contrasted with the noble | disinterestedness, and the deep but unostentatious piety of his wife. | The kind-hearted Lord and Lady Strathnaer, the petulant but generous | Edward, the plain and heavy-looking, but intellectual and high-souled | Joan, (the latter in particular,) are drawn with masterly precision, and | even the foolish mother and dogged father find their appropriate | places in the group. There is an idiot, or almost idiot brother of | Edward, the eldest son of Lord Strathnaer, of whom we suspect the | authoress intended at first to make more. He does good service in the | earlier scenes of the novel, and never appears afterwards without | touching effect; but we gradually lose sight of him as we draw near | the conclusion. There is a striking episode in the | earlier portion of the work, which paints with terrible effect the | temporal and spiritual wretchedness of some of our manufacturing | population. We could wish to believe that the picture is over-charged, | but we fear that it is an "o'er true tale." We will now transcribe one or | two scenes, which, we think, will gratify the reader, and give, at the | same time, a fair specimen of the work. | | Michael, who has become a cornfactor, and traded in the miseries of | his wretched neighbours during the famine of 1800, has been torn | from his house by the infuriated mob, and thrown from "Norman's | Bridge" into the river. His rescue by Lord Strathnaer is thus vividly | and touchingly described: ~~ | | | | Michael is taken to Lord Strathnaer's house, and an intimacy grows up | between the two families. Joan in particular, Michael's grand-daughter, | whose kind and judicious attentions had been already of | essential service to the little idiot, is quite domesticated at | Widdington-house. The children are brought into close and habitual | contact. They even study together; for, under the tuition of Mr. | McDougal, the presbyterian minister, who has followed the Grants | from Scotland, Joan is no contemptible classic. We transcribe some | beautiful scenes, which take place between her and Edward. | | | | It is but faint praise to say that the above extract reminds us of Miss | Edgeworth's best style. We think it not only equal, but superior to, | anything in "Frank" or "Rosamond." There is a nature and a truth | about it, an abandon, which, with all their | cleverness and graphic effect, Miss Edgeworth's children seem to us to | want. They are too plainly intended for "Early Lessons." But Joan and | Edward teach us, as it were, undesignedly. There is nothing | ostentatious1y "didactive" about them. What follows is quite as good, | if not better. It is the scene of the next morning. | | | Joan's watching, joined to her mental exertion and excited feelings, | tells upon her next day. Her evident suffering calls forth all the | grateful emotions of Edward's nature, and the whole truth comes out | before Lord and Lady Strathnaer. The scene is so touching that we | cannot resist the temptation of extracting it. | | | The rush of the tide into the redeemed estuary, which completes the | ruin of Lord Strathnaer, and leads immediately to the catastrophe, is | one of the most powerful descriptions in the | | whole work, or indeed in any of the former; but we must not trespass | upon the pages of our number by any farther extracts. We refer the | reader to the volume itself, and we are persuaded that he will he amply | repaid. | | And now, that we may not seem studiously to pass over all the defects | of these volumes, and to lavish on them undue and indiscriminate | praise, we will notice a few blemishes, which struck us as we went on, | and which we leave to the future consideration of the writer. There is | often too evident a determination to produce an effect. For example: | we all know that a storm adds greatly to the effect of certain scenes; | but if it is sure to come invariably upon all such occasions, as it does | in the earlier works, at least, "Mount Sorel" and "Father Darcy," it | defeats its purpose, and becomes artificial and unimpressive. The | narrative is not unfrequently too diffuse, and there is now and then | unnecessary repetition. The style is generally perspicuous, and often | elegant, but it is sometimes rendered stiff by needless inversions, and | at others slovenly, either from haste of composition or a careless | correction of the press. We will point out one or two instances of the | latter defect. Nothing can be more slovenly, or even incorrect, than the | following passage from one of our own extracts: ~~ | The following is clearly an error of the press: ~~ | But what is to be said of the passage which | runs thus: ~~ Or thus, | The following passage is incorrect: ~~ | and this: We have taken these | instances at random, but there are many such. The stops are singularly | incorrect, making some of the sentences quite unintelligible till they | are rectified by the reader. Sometimes a word is used in an improper | sense. Thus we have "reverend" for "reverential." It is not "reverend" | to do so or so. Perhaps, however, this is a misprint for "reverent." | There are occasional gallicisms ~~ one that we never saw before. "A | mad dog" is called "an | enraged dog" | More than | | one person is said to have had "a return upon | himself." We certainly want an expression equivalent to | | but we could not venture to translate it | iterally like the authoress. Sometimes a | favourite expression is repeated too often. "This | supreme moment," for example, occurs twice within a few | pages, and once more before the end of the same volume. These, | however, are but slight errors and inadvertencies, and we mention | them principally to warn the writer against too great rapidity of | composition. From the quick succession in which these volumes have | been given to the public, we believe the caution to be necessary. | Boileau boasted of having taught Racine to "rhyme with difficulty." | We should like to convince our authoress that she does herself | injustice by coming before us in too great haste. She is evidently | capable of high things. We owe her much already, but we trust that we | shall owe her more. She can charm by vivid delineations of character, | and thrill by powerful exhibitions of passion, while she guides by the | lessons of practical wisdom and elevates by the lessons of practical | piety. Let her not fall short of her high vocation, for it | is a high one, | whatever the prejudiced and the | narrowminded may think. We are getting too far advanced to be | influenced by names. We do not ask now with what appellation a | book comes to us, but whether it informs the mind or corrects the | heart, whether it teaches us to rise above selfishness, to cultivate the | kindly affections, to feel the earnestness of life, to pass through time | with an eye stedfastly fixed upon eternity. Here then we take our leave | of the authoress, thanking her for the pleasure, and we trust profit, | which we have derived from her productions, sincerely hoping to meet | with her again, and to find that our hints have been taken in good part | by the correction of the trifling blemishes with which these pages are | more or less disfigured.